PN 

4305 



DM 
9&» 



l! 






KM 



Rffl 



mu 



M 
hub 






bra 

si 









w 



m 



m 



MSB 



Hi 



Kffiggg 



fsst 



irk 



BHH 






mm 



m 



wm 



J 



HM 






e 



i 



11 nffii 

9BB ^nraKi 






ml 

wBSEm 

BBS uM 51 

HRflRRn 
nflBKQKlSKS 



■n- 



S Bill™ 

SSflftSllg 

EmiBifl fHlfffirofiff 

BrkSSs 

HHHra 







^ *- 






\° ° 







,* N 



% 
V 















t \\ y '^n 



"c^ * 



v** 




^ 












— 



«+ 






v^ 
















_ 












V V 





































































MONOLOGUES 
AND PLAYS 



Designed for the Platform Entertainer, the 
Reader and the Teacher. 



By 
EDNA SUTTON STARK ■ 



Kansas City, Missouri 

BURTON PUBLISHING COMPANY 

Publishers 



Go I 



H 






COPYRIGHTED 1920 BY 

Burton Publishing Company 
All rights reserved 



W 27 \m 



V 



ICI.A565098 






Dedicated to my Mother. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 

Introduction 13 

THE SOLDIER OF THE WHITE UNIFORM 

CHARACTERS 

Frank, a wounded American soldier, speaker 
present. 

Jim, his buddy also wounded, supposed to 
be present. 

SCENE: In the open air ward of one of the 
war hospitals somewhere in France. The boys 
are seated in wheeled chairs. 15 

AUNT MARIAS ROMANCE 

Aunt Maria, who has enjoyed Single Blessed- 
ness for an unlimited number of years, an- 
nounces her engagement. 20 

AT RISING SUN 

A Dramatic Indian Monologue for Girl 

CHARACTERS 

Flying Snow, an Indian maiden, speaker 
present. 

Wolf Dog, supposed to be present. 

SCENE 

At the edge of a cliff. 28 



FOK THE GOOD OF THE FATHERLAND 

The scene is a poorly furnished living room of 
an old German couple during the Great War. 
The wife is preparing the evening meal. The 
door opens slowly and the husband, who has only 
one arm enters. The wife speaks. 

Place: Somewhere in Germany. 28 



DEATH, THE MAGICIAN 

A dramatic reading of the Child Labor Problem. 

31 



THE NEWSBOY'S PHILOSOPHY 

NOTE: In this monologue give just the 
suggestion of a tough kid. Although his heart is 
true gold, he has had no culture or advantages. 
Talk loud and with a "I KNOW IT ALL" 
manner. Pull cap down occasionally and with 
arm straight down and quite close to body throw 
out the right hand palm down in typical bowery 
fashion. This gesture is used for emphasis in 
places as — See! — Believe me! — Etc. Don't over- 
do or use too many times or it will detract. Re- 
member to hold imaginary bundle of newspapers 
under left arm. 

(Bob, the newsboy, hands out the straight dope 
to a beginner.) 36 



THE FIDDLER 

NOTE: To be effective music must be 
used with this monologue. The "Irish Washer- 
woman" is best suited. The calls in the paren- 
theses are half sung and half called in a nasal 
tone. But the short calls between the dashes are 
decided calls and long drawn out. Remember to 
give the imaginary dancers plenty of time to go 
through the steps. 

CHARACTERS 

Country Fiddler, speaker present. 
Sal, girl at piana, also present. 
Dancers, supposed to be present. 
SCENE: Country dance. 38 

SECOND YOUTH 

After having attended a series of health lectures 
by W. Earl Flynn, an advocate of physical 
culture, diet and modern hygiene, old Grand- 
father Jones voices his sentiments. 41 

HARD WORK PREFERRED 

(NOTE: A darky walks with a shambling 
gait, toes pointed out the opposite from that which 
is commonly called "pigeon toes" He ducks his 
head and looks up at the person addressed, there- 
by showing the white of his eyes. Oftentime for 
emphasis, he puts the same stress on each syllable 
of the word.) 



A traveling man, thinking to have some fun, 
with the darkey porter, offers him a job with the 
following results. 43 



UNCLE EPHRAIM TALKS TO A WAR HERO 

(NOTE: Walk with one hand on imaginary 
cane, other hand on back. He is bent and old, 
but with the heart of a youth. He teases the young 
soldier good-naturedly, and laughs heartily over 
his own jokes.) 

Uncle Ephraim, the old colored wit of the 
town meets a young negro soldier, just returned 
from the war, enthusiastic over his own exploits, 
and greets him as follows: 47 

A LITERARY SHADOW 

Comedy negro-dialect monologue for a woman. 

CHARACTERS 

Rosindy, a cullud lady, speaker present. 
Mistress, supposed to be present 
(NOTE: Put on all the airs that a cullud 
lady of distinction would assume.) 50 

SAMMY SEES HIS FIRST CIRCUS 

Comedy negro-dialect monologue. 

CHARACTERS 
Sammy, litte negro boy, speaker present. 
Mammy, supposed to be present. 58 



THE SALVATION ARMY LASSIE 

CHARACTERS 

Jennie, an adorable Salvation Army lass 
from overseas, speaker present. 

Mrs. Vantrees, a lady of affluence, very cold 
and haughty, supposed to be present. 

SCENE: Luxurious living room of Mrs. 
Vantrees 1 home on Fifth Avenue. 

TIME: At the close of the Great War. 

Jennie has come with news of Mrs. Vantrees' 
soldier son. 

(NOTE: Jennie speaks with just a sug- 
gestion of Irish accent, not broad, but rather a 
slight rhythmic tone. She is very sweet and 
timid, yet full of mischief. This monologue re- 
quires lots of action and pantomime. It is very 
effective in costume.) 56 

CAMMOUFLAGE OF THE HEART 



Time, 1918. During the Great War. 

Place, New York city. 

Time of presentation, fifteen minutes. 

CAST OF CHARACTERS 

Franque Godfrey ...Younger sister of Anna. 

Anna Godfrey....Fiancee of Capt. Johu Willacy. 



SCENE: Private sitting room of the two 
Misters, Anna and Franque. Furniture, white 
wicker with blue cretone draperies. 61 



DIAMOND SEVEN, HEARTS EIGHT 

Time, present. 

Place, Reception Room of Mrs. Stafford's 
home. 

Time of presentation, twenty-five minutes. 

CHARACTERS IN ORDER OF 
THEIR APPEARANCE 
Marie. — A French Maid. 
Mrs. Loretta Stafford.— Mother of Tom. 
Mrs. Ellen VanVoorees. — Mother of Grace. 
Grace VanVoorees. 

Nathalia Phillips. — Secretary of Mrs. Stafford's. 
Natilla.— Cook of Mrs. Stafford's. 



(NOTE: In this sketch, every character has 
the opportunity of looking beautiful. Mrs. 
Stafford and Mrs. VanVoorees must not be 
dressed to look old. Even Natilla, the cook, must 
look pretty and cute.) 70 



INTRODUCTION 

A monologue requires the impersonation of 
one distinct character, therefore, it is a step 
beyond an ordinary reading as it nearer ap- 
proaches the drama. 

More often without the aid of make up, than 
with it, the monologist must present to his 
audience a true picture of the character he is 
representing. If he is successful then he is 
worthy of the name of Platform Artist. 

His task is more difficult than that of the 
actor as he is denied the stage properties and 
supporting cast which help the actor to create 
the illusion. It is quite permissible to dress 
in suitable costume and adds much to the effect, 
but in doing so, never give your own intro- 
duction, it must be given by some one else or 
printed on the program, as it is a breach of 
art, while in costume, to be other than the 
character impersonated. 

A monologue is a one sided conversation. 
To be a good conversationalist one must be a 
good listener. Pauses or listening places test 
the skill of the entertainer. The pauses must 
not be mere blanks but in them the performer 
must show by expression and pantomime that 
which is being said by the other person. 

13 



U MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 

Never make the mistake of reading the 
manuscript with the sole intention of memo- 
rizing. But instead, study the thought ex- 
pressed. For the time being obliterate self 
entirely and be the character striving to feel 
his emotions and think his thoughts. After 
thoroughly studying, then voice audibly the 
thoughts given, and with a few repetitions, Lo! 
It is memorized. Learn to observe humanity; 
watch for types; always be on the lookout for 
little mannerisms that may be used advan- 
tageously. 

In a monologue rarely face the audience or 
turn to the extreme side, but rather address the 
supposed speaker present, half way between. 
This does not mean that the monologist must 
stand in a fixed position. He is allowed all 
the freedom of action he chooses to exercise. 
But the audience must be made to feel that 
there is another definite person or persons 
present to whom the monologist is speaking. 

The introductions must be given distinctly 
with strict observance as to the correct pro- 
nunciation of every word. Only in dialects 
is it permissible to mispronounce. Even then, 
dialect must not be so perfect that the mean- 
ing is sacrificed. You can not hold your 
audience unless they understand you. 

Don't depend upon a prompter. A prompter 
differs from an umbrella in that, if you have 
your umbrella, it's sure not to rain, whereas, 
if you have a prompter, you are sure to need 
prompting. No doubt, you will sometimes 
forget, but if you know that it's up to you, 
you will rise to the occasion and extricate your- 



MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 15 

self without the audience being any the wiser. 
Even, after you have given a selection 
successfully, over and over again, don't become 
careless and think there is no room for improve- 
ment. Perfection is never attained. 



THE SOLDIER OF THE WHITE UNIFORM 

CHARACTERS 

Frank, a wounded American soldier, speaker 
present. 

Jim, his buddy also wounded, supposed to 
be present 

SCENE: In the open air ward of one of the 
war hospitals somewhere in France. The boys 
are seated in wheeled chairs. 

That good old warm sun ain't bad, is it Jim? 
This is the first time in two months I've had 
the pleasure, of meetin' old Sol, face to face 
and I kinder feel like I wouldn't mind bein' 
sunstruck. But say Jim! you hadn't noticed 
any complainin' notes issuing from my beak 
and you know blame well, I'm no Pollyanne 
either — But as long as they keep that little 
nurse inside, they don't have to put me outside, 
to get the benefit of the sunshine — she's the 
camouflage sunshine all right, all right. 

Which nurse am I talking about? — why, the 
one with them sparkling black eyes, so bright 
you could light your cigarette from them. 
The boys call her Sister Cordelia — Say! but 
she's pretty, and its no beauty parlor prettiness 
either. But don't them made beauties, with 
their eye brows all plucked out, give yer a 

16 



MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 17 

pain? This here girl has the roses in her cheeks, 
that don't wipe off. 

I know it sounds funny to hear me, what they 
calls the skirt hater, a ravin' like this. But 
you see, Jim, its this way, I owe my life to that 

little girl Yes I guess you're right. I'm 

not the only one that's in debt to her, for their 
remainin' years on this old globe. But I'd 
rather you hadn't mentioned it — I kinda like 
to think I'm the only one. Course I'm not 
begrudgin' her any war medals for life savin', 
and it is up to us fellows to do her shoutin' for 
her, cause she never does any braggin'. I have 
nicknamed her The Soldier of the White Uni- 
form. 

Jim, if I live to be a thousand, I'll never for- 
get the first time I heard her voice. — You know 
when they brought me in, they thought they 
was wastin' the government's time, as they 
was certain they'd have to turn right around, 
and take me out again. I couldn't speak nor 
move, but I could hear all right. And I heard 
old Doc say — "Here's a lad that's Westward 
Bound."— "Westward Bound." Well I didn't 
need any map to tell me where I was headed 
for, and I tho't to myself, if its the settin' sun 
for me, I'll go over with a rush, same as we went 
over the top. 

But just then, I heard a voice — her voice — 
sayin', "No! No! Doctor, you must not say that. 
He has fought for France and he shall live to 
fight again." Well, I tho't to myself, if there's 
any one with a voice like that, wants me to do 
her fightin' I'm sure not goin' to disappoint 



18 MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 

her. So I grits my teeth and decides to stay. 
But my decision wouldn't have amounted to 
shucks if she'd deserted me. 

Forty-eight hours she sat by me, never 
closing her eyes, her only rations a glass of 
milk now and then. Course I didn't reckon' 
the time. They told me all about it. And say 
Jim, when old man Death saw that little 
nurse was there to stay, he lets go his hold on 
me and sneaks off. So thanks to her, here I am 
wearing a Cross on my breast, instead of a white 
one six feet above. You know Jim, I've always 
fought shy of women folks. But here's one 
I'm willin' to go to the preacher and answer, I 
do or I will as long as we both do live — and then 
some. 

What am I talkin' about? You ought to 
know by this time that instead of a war victim — 
I'm a cupid refugee. I'm in love, all right, for 
the first, last, and only time, and you know me, 
Jim, that's the straight dope. If lifelong de- 
votion and worldly goods will make her happy 
she'll never be melancholy. I've just dis- 
covered what those oil wells are for. And they 
say these French lasses are some aviators 

makin' money fly. What's this sister 

stuff you're talkin'? Can't you understand 
me Jim? — I don't want her to be my sister. I 
want her to be my life long pardner, my wife. 

A Catholic Sister! Come easy boy! Not a 
Nun! Well I'll be darned! And me a Baptist! 
Say Jim, do you reckon she knew what church 
I belonged to? It don't make no differ- 
ence to them Sisters you say. It seems that 



MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 19 

this war aint no respecter of religions. Jim, 
how do they feel, when they get shell shock? 
I think I've got it. Why I've been so preju- 
diced against Catholics and said mean things 
about 'em. But say! — From now on its goin' 
to be different. I know that a religion that 

turns out an angel like her can't be wrong 

What's that? Them sisters are all alike? Well 
they've sure got a corner on angels and here- 
after when one of them sweet faced angel 
ladies passes me, my heart will stand attention, 
for they'll be the same as Old Glory to me. 



AUNT MARIA'S ROMANCE 

Aunt Maria, who has enjoyed Single Blessed- 
ness for an unlimited number of years, an- 
nounces her engagement. 

Why am I all perked up? Ye don't mean to 
tell me, ye aint hearn about my romance? 

(Giggle old maid fashion) Yes, I be in love, 

at last I'm fittin' up to embark on the stormy 

sea of matrimony. What's that? There's 

no fool like an old 'un. 

(Think for a moment) 

Well! as long as there's a pair of us, I guess 

we can hit it off Eh? (Put hand to ear as if 

a little deaf) Oh! I ain't got spunk enuff to 

tell ye his name. (Giggle) Can't ye guess? 

Si Overton? (Scornfully) Well I guess not! 
Why I wouldn't marry him, if he wuz the last 
man alive. — I've hearn his wife tell too much 
on him. Poor soul, she's dead — but I'll swear 
she's happier where she be now, though its 
doubtful, jes which place it is. One thing sure, 
if she lands in Satan's domain, she'll feel to 
hum. 

(Change to silly sentimental — giggle — co- 
quettishly) 

Come to think about it, ye couldn't guess 
his name, not if you'd guess from now 'til 

20 



MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 21 

doomsday — Fer ye see, I got him out of a 
advertisement. (Giggle) Ain't I the smartest 
thing? (Slowly and reminiscent) Law! if I'd 

only tho't on it, forty years back (Sharp 

and decisive) But then: There's no use cryn' 
over spilt milk — that's my motto — if the milk's 
spilt, let the cat lick it up, and seek for new 
pastures, where there's more cows to milk. 

(Back to silly sentimental) 

Its to be a church weddin'. (Giggle) He was 
a little contrary-wise on that point, but then, 

they all are. (Sharp and spontaneously) 

Queer how men hate ter go ter church, jest 
'cause they're married in one. — (Emphatic) 
I alius says 'taint the collections what bother, 
but the recollections. But I told Jonathan, 
(Giggle) that's his name, — it jes slipped out 
fer I knowed it — an whenever I say it, it gives 
me such a funny feelin.' (Giggle) (Quick) Tain't 
nothin' the matter with the name, its a beauti- 
ful name, if I can only git ust to speakin'it 

But as I wuz sayin — I told Jonathan. — Ooh! 
Oh! (Giggle) Ain't I the silliest thing? Well 
anyway, I told him, I hadn't waited all these 
years, not to make some time over it, and ye 
can jes put it down, that this weddin's goin' 
ter be the biggest ter do, that ye ever laid eyes 

on. I ain't spent my life fer nothin', readin' 

how these dukes and actresses git married. — 
I've thut it all out. — An' my lame knee ain't 
goin' to bother me a mite — instid of bein' a 
hindrance, its goin' ter add ter the occasion. 
(Rapidly) Course I've got gumption enuff ter 
know, thet I wouldn't create no sensation ter 



22 MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 

go limpin' up the aisle — no matter how long my 
train is — I'm goin' ter have some bridesmaids 
scattered around, and I tho't it wouldn't be 
a bad idee, fer them ter have something ter do, 
so I'm goin' ter come up the aisle, riding in a 
wheel chair and let my bridesmaids do the 

pushin\ Eh? No, I can't recall readin' 

of any of the highfullutins doin' it jes that a 
way. But I'll warrant they'll be up ter it next. 

I wanted ter have a Matron of honor, but 
all my suitable relatives be dead long ago . 

The lady, that's makin' my weddin' outfit 
said I'd better wear my veil over my face all 
the time — tho't it'd be more becomin' an' I 
guess she wouldn't tell me if it warn't the 
latest thing. She ain't ben a bit stingy about 
the material, why its the thickest veil I ever 

saw — Oh there won't be no wear out to it 

Yes, we're calculatin' on a weddin' tower 
(Giggle). I'd set my heart on spendin' my 
honeymoon at Niagara Falls, but one of my 
married friends wuz agin it. Said not to take 
him there as it wuz too good a place fer 
suicides 

( Hand to ear) What's that? 

Oh they hain't no doubt, but its comin' off 
this time, so ye might as well be pickin' out 
the weddin' present. 

(Confidentially) 

The reason I'm so sure of this un, I'm gettin' 
him out of the Home for the blind. 



AT RISING SUN 

A Dramatic Indian Monologue for Girl 

CHARACTERS 

Flying Snow, an Indian maiden, speaker 
present. 

Wolf Dog, supposed to be present. 

SCENE 

At the edge of a clitf. 

NOTE: Tis said it is impossible for a full 
blood Indian to talk over a telephone as he 
can not be understood without the use of 
gestures. So in this monologue, it is advisable 
to use as many gestures as possibly can be put 
in. Speak with soft Southern accent. Give 
free rein to your emotions. 



According to an Indian legend, the sun, moon 
and stars are one big family. The sun is the 
great chief, the moon is his wife, and the stars 
are his children whom he has to eat to keep 
himself alive. So when he is up in the morning, 
they flee out of his sight. Every month the 
moon grieves when the sun eats some of the 
stars and puts black over her face. The 

23 



24 MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 

stars are very happy with their mother and 
sing and dance as she passes among them. 

In the days of the old Indian Territory, 
according to the custom of some of the tribal 
governments, an Indian sentenced to death, 
was allowed to go unguarded to his tribe and 
remain thirty days or more, roaming over 
the plains and doing what he would. At the 
end of the allotted time, he was to return of 
his own free will to be executed. Although 
escape would be easily accomplished no con- 
demned Indian has ever betrayed this trust. 
He had the right to pick his own executioner; 
usually he chose his best friend and at the hour 
set stoically appeared ready to clasp the cold 
and bony hand of death. 

In the early summer morning at the edge of 
a rocky cliff, with the black waters far below 
stood Flying Snow, a beautiful Indian maiden. 
By her side was her faithful Wolf Dog, to 
whom she pours out the secrets of her heart. 



(Stroke dog with left hand). This night, we 
wait — morning come. (Look up at moon over left 
shoulder.) See! Wolf Dog! See kind Moon 
Mother! She heap happy — uncover face — 
(Look at the stars.) So star papooses laugh. — 
(Change from smiling countenance to apprehen- 
sion.) Ugh! (Draw shoulders up and give a slight 
shiver. (Ugh!) is not given explosively or loud 
but rather long drawn out.) She forget, old 
Sun Big Chief, soon come out, his wigwam. 
(Raise both arms straight out, parallel and on a 
level with shoulders, palms down — look to the 



MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 25 

rising sun.) When him head rise up, by yonder 
plain, (Look to stars and continue to raise arms.) 
not only star children scamper away frightened, 
but me, (Cross hands on breast, bow head) 
child of Earth, go with them. (Drop hands to 
sides and defiantly throw head back.) But 
Flying Snow, unafraid, go! 

(Again pet dog.) Old Wolf Dog whine, kiss 
hand. (Shake head.) You no understand 
speech — yet you see heart. (Nod head.) You 
growl heap much, you sat by me in Warrior's 
Council — you hear Big Chief Ya-ho-la speak. 
(With chest erect and arms folded across in 
typical Indian fashion, imitate the chief.) "First 
morn, next two moons — you — Forest Fire, be 
shot at rising sun." Ugh! You growl, only 
fierce shout back of spirit mate. (Meaning 
that the dog understood and his growl was only 
the echo of her soul.) Me cry out, (With arms 
outstretched in a passionate appeal.) "Forest 
Fire, good brave, him kill Black Tiger. (Show 
hate.) Heap bad Buck!" Chief say back, (With 
right hand upraised.) "Red People, bury 
tomahawk — break scalping knife. An Indian 
not shed Indian blood. Be it so, I have 
spoken." Then me know old Wolf Dog, no 
good stay at council. When Flying Snow plead, 
(With arms outstretched look beseechingly to a 
circle of red men) wise men only grunt and shake 
heads. (Shake head in despair.) (Then change, 
let face light up with rapture at the thought of her 
lover.) 

Forest Fire laugh — him no care — him sad, 
only for Flying Snow. (Back to despair.) 



26 MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 

She break heart! She cause Forest Fire kill 
Black Tiger. Him heap ugly! (Show intense 
hate and loathing.) Ugh! (Shrug shoulders) 
She hate him! Ugh!! She no want marry him! 
But her people nod head, say yes. (Pet dog.) 
Wolf Dog, me no help love Forest Fire. (Show 
by facial expression her great love.) Him heap 
love Flying Snow. (Quick action, using both 
hands indicate his going.) Him go to Black 
Tiger — tell him — give much ponies — (With 
hands in front, open and shut, twice to indicate 
the number of ponies.) Many lands — [(With 
arms in sweeping gesture to denote the vast ex- 
tent of land.) Him no marry Flying Snow. 
(Back to hatred.) Old Tiger shake head — say, 
"He go for squaw at setting sun." (With 
fiendish joy.) Then Forest Fire, kill him! Me 
heap glad!! 

(With utter abandonment.) Flying Snow — 
Forest Fire much happy last two moons. 
Hunt deer! Fish many waters— ride much — 
Laugh heap!! (Sudden transition from wild 
joy to utter despair.) But last night parti 
(Very slowly and with great effort.) Time 
come Forest Fire go back — be shot. (Pull 
self together and with a forced smile wave right 
hand at her departing lover.) Me smile. Wave 
hand all while him ride away. (Let hand drop 
on bowed head.) Then moan heap much. 
(Slowly raise head and shake off the tears.) Now 
no cry more. (Creep to cliff and look over.) 
Look down, old Wolf Dog — see darking rushing 
waters. Listen! They calling! Calling — 
"Come Flying Snow, come with us, we take 



MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 17 

you to Land of Souls." (As she realizes that 
the Sun is ready to rise, she stoically prepares to 
leap over the cliff and enter the great beyond with 
her lover.) 

Rising Sun soon come. Dancing star 

papoose, gone, all. (Wrap blanket around you 
and take step forward. Look back at dog, who 
is trying to prevent the rash act.) No! Wolf 
Dog! No hold to blanket. Me want it in 
Happy Hunting Ground. (With a sudden 
start see sun.) The Sun!! With you, me go, 
Forest Fire! (Look up.) Oh Manitou. (Ma- 
nee-to.) Great Spirit! Me come! (Make a 
deep bow.) 



FOR THE GOOD OF THE FATHERLAND 

The scene is a poorly furnished living room of 
an old German couple during the Great War. 
The wife is preparing the evening meal. The 
door opens slowly and the husband, who has only 
one arm enters. The wife speaks. 

Place: Somewhere in Germany. 

Ah, my Fritz: you are late! You have for- 
gotten what day this is No, I am mistaken. 

You do remember. But you expect no birthday 
cake. There is where you are mistaken. 
(Showing cake) See! Even though the war is 
still with us, you shall have your cake of the 
birthdays. But the sixty candles that should 
be on top; they — well part of them are in 
the cake — you are not pleased? You like 
not to be sixty? I never made you the years — 
I only made the cake. Husband, be not quar- 
relsome, because I pretend to be gay. I have 
not forgotten our boys — our five sons, whom we 

gladly gave for the glory of the fatherland 

I should be ashamed because I had not more 
sons to give? — Ach! was I to blame because 
the rest were girls? Yes, I know, girls are 
nothing. They cannot be soldiers. But Fritz, 
our daugtres are still with us, and our sons — 
they — they will never be with us I ought 

28 



MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 29 

to be proud that they died on the battlefield? 
I am — I am — for I know that God and the 
Emperor know best. But sometimes — Oh 
forgive — I can't help thinking I would like to 
have my boys come home — my hungry boys, 
come back, so I could — you want me to hush 

Since you lost your arm I don't keep my 

place, you say. Ah! husband I still remember 
the beatings you used to give me — Yes, yes, 
I know I needed them. Do not think because 
now, you are the weaker I would not submit to 

the whipping Although I should have one 

you are too tired to bother. Then I will take 

off your boots and you shall rest You want 

me, not to come near you. What paper is this 
you give me? If it is a food order, then we 
must forget to eat entirely. It is for the good 
of the fatherland. Everything that is bad is 
for the good of the fatherland — You still 
strike hard, though it is your left hand. I did 
not mean that. — I am a true German! I give 
all for the Kaiser! Yes, yes, the paper, I will 
read(Reads). "Owing to the loss of men, the 
Imperial Government decrees that all old wives 
should agree to allow their husbands to take 

young wives and hereby authorizes" Young 

wives! Fritz, what does it mean — Yes! Yes! 

I know I read it, but I don't understand 

I will later — I see! I see! I, the mother of 
five soldiers, five dead soldiers, I — why I am of 
no use — because — because, I can have no more 
soldiers. God! and this Kaiser to whom I have 
given all, he gives this order - - - for the good 
of the fatherland. You say, it is all for the best. 



30 MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 

Yes, yes, I know. It seems hard at first, but 
for the good of the fatherland. Wait, I will get 
some wine — wedding wine to eat with the 
birthday cake. You laugh and are happy, and 
so will I be. You cut the cake, while I get the 
wine and don't forget to count the hungry boys, 
our soldier boys. (She leaves the room and re- 
turns shortly with several glasses of wine.) You 
see, I remember the boys. No! No! it is not 
gruesome to pretend that the boys are here. 
Come! Let us drink to them — my boys — your 
dead soldiers. And now we will drink to your 

future live soldiers Why do I not call them 

sons? Sons! No! for the good of the fatherland 

they must be soldiers, not sons Ah, my 

Fritz, you eat your cake and drink your wine, 
and are happy once more. I too, I am happy, 
happier than you — for we — we go soon to meet 

our boys, our dead soldier boys You are 

sick! Be not afraid — the pain will soon be over. 
You fall — the poison it is swift. Oh! — God 
forgive — But it is for the good of the fatherland. 



DEATH, THE MAGICIAN 

A dramatic reading of the Child Labor Problem. 

August Crawford had received his death 
sentence, not from the judge of the law but 
from the highest tribunal. His death cell was 
the luxurious bed room of his palatial home, 
or could it be called Home for "Home, is 
where the heart is," and for twenty years his 
heart laid buried with his wife. He was glad 
he was conscious, for now he was free, to revel 
in the thought of their meeting. Though he 
was not a religious man, yet deep in his soul 
was imbedded that golden nugget, Hope, so 
that he had no doubt about her welcoming him 
across the border. 

Twenty years ago, how well he remembered, 
he and his little love-mate had waited with im- 
patient joy, for the coming of the bright mess- 
enger to bring his precious human parcel. 
But Heaven fearing, lest she might be selling 
herself on instalments, sent Birth's grim 
pardner, Death, who claimed his girl wife 
Margaret in payment for the wee baby, Mar- 
garet. How bitter had been his denunciations, 
because he had not been allowed a choice. But 
now he had no quarrel with Death, he might 
come as soon as he liked. He wondered vaguely 
if Death remembered all the harsh things he 
had said of him. Surely not, it was twenty years 

31 



32 MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 

ago and besides he must be accustomed to 
such abuse. No doubt he had been detained 
by an unexpected suicide. How well balanced 
was everything. He who had separated would 
reunite. After all, Death, was not such a bad 
fellow. And such a happy reunion theirs would 
be, he could picture the angels peeking through 
their harp strings, trying to catch a glimpse of 
their joyous meeting. He felt justly, that he 
deserved all the praise that she would lavish 
upon him. For had he not carried out her 
wishes to the uttermost? 'Take care of my 
baby and make her happy" had rung in his 
ears, since the world began, so it seemed. 
When she had given up her life that this other 
might be, it were as if the moon had ceased to 
shine leaving a lone star in her place. So is it 
any wonder that he shrank from the tiny 
bundle, old Hagar, the nurse held for him to 
see, fearing lest he might curse the light of the 
usurping star? It was then he realized to carry 
out his wife's wish he must needs send away 
this dread reminder of the vacuum of his life. 
Though he had never seen this child whom 
Death had traded him, he had done all in human 
power to make her life one of endless joy and 
happiness. Her inheritance from him would 
continue its revenues unto the third and fourth 
generations. 

Augustus Crawford was the "Business is 
Business" species of a business man. So when 
he found it more profitable to employ child 
labor in his mills he did so with no compunction. 
Old Hagar, the nurse, had remonstrated with 



MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 33 

him saying that her children had been denied 
their childright to happiness and now her grand- 
children, weaker than their fore-fathers were 
but human food for the grinding power of the 
mills. He argued that these poor people with 
their enormous families should count it a 
blessing, to have this means of ridding them- 
selves of their surplus burdens. He generously- 
paid all funeral expenses so they were not out 
of pocket, when a child or two died. Besides 
these low people did not have the finer sensi- 
bilities, so were not capable of feelings such as 
his cultivated soul possessed. 

Some one was at the door, he could hear the 
nurse expostulating. Was it Death? If so, 
why did she not bid him enter. "But I have 
something to say he must know." It was old 
Hagar. He thought dimly she was coming for 
the last time to plead for the mill children. Well 
he would humor her by allowing an interview, 
although he knew he would not grant her re- 
quest. "Let her come in, you may go until 
I call you." He spoke so composedly the nurse 
was reassured. He heard the door close softly 
behind her and then saw Hagar's old bent form 
standing beside him. He smiled feebly, "I 
have been expecting a visitor, you look like 
his sister." "Sir, this is no time for jokes, what 
I have come to tell, will be of interest. Listen: 
Twenty years ago, my son's wife forfeited her 
life that her baby might live. A similar case 
was that of your wife. T'was an easy matter 
and God prompted me — for think you not, 
He has a sense of humor — to take this child of 



34 MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 

yours, born to luxury and in her stead place 
my own, the child of misery. But now, she 
is dead, your child, killed by your will, all 
these years has she toiled in your life robbing 
mills. Had you known, when I pleaded for 
those children that I was begging for your own 
child's life your answer would have been far 
different. Eh!" She laughed a dry rasping sob. 
The smile had faded from his face. And all the 
undertaker's art could not erase the awful look 
of terror to which it had been changed by 
Death. 



THE NEWSBOY'S PHILOSOPHY 

NOTE: In this monologue give just the 
suggestion of a tough kid. Although his heart is 
true gold, he has had no culture or advantages. 
Talk loud and with a "I KNOW IT ALL" 
manner. Pull cap down occasionally and with 
arm straight down and quite close to body throw 
out the right hand palm down in typical bowery 
fashion. This gesture is used for emphasis in 
places as — See! — Believe me! — Etc. Don't over- 
do or use too many times or it will detract. Re- 
member to hold imaginary bundle of newspapers 
under left arm. 

(Bob, the newsboy, hands out the straight dope 
to a beginner.) 

Take it from me kid, de newsboy biz aint so 
woise 'n I knows — see — cause I'se ben on de 

job, ever sence I could holler Aw cut out de 

whinin' 'n snifflm' — dat sob stuff don't sell 
yer papers. De guys dat buys want a grin 

thrown in Cold? Course its cold! Ye 

didn't spects a summer day in January — did 
youse? Say! De cold may make me color blue, 
but youse kin bet youse life, it aint makin' me 
feelin's dat a way - - 

I knows youse new at de biz and let me tip 
youse off, it aint no limousine road youse 

35 



36 MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 

traveling ceptin to dodge em. 

While we's a waitin' fer de crowd, I'll put 
youse wise to de game, so's youse kin be a 
professional like me — see! 

If you spects ter be a winner, youse first, 
last, and center name, is got ter be Hustle. 
Me mudder's got a slogan, what says, "Taint 
birth nor rank nor state, but de git up and git 
what makes men great." 'N me mudder she 
knows. Course I'se got a drunk, no count 
fadder — but me mudder and me aint complain- 
in' nor askin' fer a new deal. She sez, anybuddy 
kin play de good hands — its how youse plays de 
bad ones, what counts. 'N don't youse be 
wishin' youse one of 'em rich kids, whats born 
wid a silver spoon in their mouth either. 
Mudder sez, "Dey most generally fergits to 
take the spoon out 'n so dey gits choke on it." 

See dat swell guy cross de street. Well he 
aint no piker! He's the sure nuff goods! Youse 
don't hev ter bother erbout change when youse 
hands him de printed page. He puts up de 
feed fer us boys Xmas 'n I over hears him talk- 
in', 'n he sez, he'd give a million to hev a 
appetite like mine. So youse sees he aint got 
nothin' on me. He may hev de dough ter buy 
de swell eats, but he can't do nothin' but gaze 
at 'em. 

Mudder sez, most of em sufferin' from over- 
eatin' same as us does fer not gittin' enuff but 
their pain 's lots worse. 'N these here dames 
wid de swell rags, what youse sees all dolled 
up. 'N youse thinks they've got a paid policy 
on Heaven. Well, take it from me kid, they 



MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 37 

aint so happy. A guy, what named Style, 
makes em hop around somethin' fierce. In de 
good old summer time when we uns is hitm' de 
pavement in our bare feet, dey hev ter wear 
shoes — 'n shoes what hurts, too. 'N — yes! 
How's youse like ter hev ter pull out youse 
eyebrows? Well, dey does! 

Believe me! I aint tradin' wid no one. Why 
kid! Youse oughtin' to be kickin' — Look what 
this here paper sez. "Banker robbed and 
murdered/ ' Well youse aint never hearn of a 
newsboy being killed fer his coin, hev youse? 
I tells youse we uns got a snap. 'N did youse 
see erbout the strikes — I tho't it wuz de base 
ball dope, er I wouldn't hev read it. Gee! 
But ef them labor leaders wuz to git on de base 
ball team they'd make Ty Cobb look like a 
baby wid a fly swatter. 

Now pard git wise 'n cut out de blubberin' 
'n go ter bluffin'. I'd rather be a cheerful 
idiot than a wise old grouch, any day. 

Well S'long. 
(Leave calling loudly) Paper! Mister, paper! 
Paper! All erbout the murder! 



THE FIDDLER 

NOTE: To be effective music must be 
used with this monologue. The "Irish Washer- 
woman 1 ' is best suited. The calls in the paren- 
theses are half sung and half called in a nasal 
tone. But the short calls between the dashes are 
decided calls and long drawn out. Remember to 
give the imaginary dancers plenty of time to go 
through the steps. 

CHARACTERS 

Country Fiddler, speaker present. 
Sal, girl at piana, also present. 
Dancers, supposed to be present. 
SCENE: Country dance. 

I've ben axed ter announce, thet next 
Saterday night, the Literary's goin' to give a 
box supper, over on Turkey Crick, fer the 
benifit of the Red Cross. (Spits) All you boys 
are requested ter bring yer appetites and yer 
week's pay, and the gals will do the rest. (Chew- 
ing and spitting) 

Fer fear you 11 all git scared and bust out a 
winder light a gittin' away, I thought I'd 
better tell yer, thet later in the evenin', Lem 
Stewart, who has been sojournin' up in the 

38 



MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 39 

city, fer the last few weeks, is goin' ter give a 
exhibition round dance (Chews). He's ben 
havm' a hard time a lamin' thet best girl of 
his'n, them new fangled steps, but they think 
thet they can step her through. 

(Calling) Git yer pardners fer the next 
quardrille. ( To the girl at piano) Give me "A". 

(Go through business of tuning imaginary 

fiddle.) Bill, air you so all fired humley, thet 
none of the gals will dance with ye? There's 
Mahitable Doolittle over thar in the corner, 
jest a dyin' to shake her feet. Go on over 
there, ye lazy cuss! and fill up this set. (Giving 
the typical farmer swing and kick) Gosh all 
hemlocks! If there aint Silas Spookendike. 
Hello, Si! I thought you wuz too blame old, 
ter be a cuttin' up sech capers. 

All set! (To real girl at piano who plays 
"Irish Washwoman") Hit her up, Sal. (Starts 

playing an imaginary fiddle) Balance all 

Swing All jine hands and circle ter the 

left Do-See-do. (All the time playing the 

fiddle and keeping time to the music by coming 
down with his right heel. Also chewing.) (First 

couple out ter the right Trail yer lady 

Retrail yer baby.) 
Swing 

(Once and a half and a half ye go 

All you gals there grab a beau.) 
On ter the next 



(Swing thet gal thet is so sweet, 
Swing thet gal with the great big feet.) 
(Once and a half and a half ye go, 
Watch out Pete ye'll stub yer toe.) 



40 MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 



-On ter the next. 



(Ladies round ladies, 
And gents round gents, 
Gents round ladies. 
And ladies round gents.) 

— Swing 

(Once and a half and a half yer go 
Grab yer pardners and do-see-do.) 

— Pardner whirl 

-Corner whirl- 



(Treat em all alike 

If it takes all night.) 

(Grab yer pardner 

And sail away.) 

(Chase thet rabbit, chase thet squirrel 

Chase thet pretty girl round the world, 

Chase her there and back agin, 

Swing yer pardner and al-le-men.) 

(Music stops.) (During the last part the 

fiddler does a few steps, but still continues 

fiddling and calling.) 

Well, Bill, yer got thru thet without fallin' 

down more than once. 

(Calling to Hank at back of room.) Well, 

Hank! Ef ye can git away from thet lemonade 

borrel, I'd like ter have yer spell me a bit, so I 

can wet my own whistle. 



SECOxND YOUTH 

After, having attended a series of health lectures 
by W. Earl Flynn, an advocate of physical 
culture, diet and modern hygiene, old Grand- 
father Jones voices his sentiments. 

The' haint no comfort in growin' old, sence that 

man Flynn has cum to town. 
Usto git sum sypathiz'n, but 'pears the world's 

plum upside down. 
The Good Old Book sez, "Three score years an' 

ten," is purty nigh ye're limit, 
But sence then, it's ben discovered, them words 

warn't up to the minute. 
For if ye'll only throw away yer crutches an' 

straighten up and dance, 
At seventy, ye'll feel like a boy, that's jest put 

on his first long pants. 

Usto be woke up, with the appetizin' smell of a 

buckwheat cake, 
Instid ye git up carefully with a lot of exercise 

to take, 
An' if yer neglected stummick calls fer food, 

before it's dinner time, 
Ye drink a cup of water, an' hand yerself a 

lemon, — minus rine. 
When the blame noon whistle blows, an' ye put 

41 



42 MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 

yer feet under the table, 
Ye'd think ye'd earned a right to fill up full an' 
eat all that yer able. 

But the hygienic menus, are composed of evry- 

thing ye hates, 
Yer beefsteak is supplemented by whole wheat 

bread, buttermilk an' dates. 
Then ye chews, an' chews, an' chews, .'till ye 

make a cow with her cud ashame, 
Yer face gets lop-sided an' twisted an' yer por 

jaws are sore an' lame. 
In the good old days ye tuk yer bath when 

Saturday rolled around, 
Now it 'pears ye have to take six, in one day, in 

order to be sound. 

These was my honest feelin's fore I saw Dad 
Flynn an' got converted, 

Now I wouldn't swop back to rheumatics fer all 
back checks inserted. 

I'm feelin' like a boy again an' I'm takin' out 
a college course. 

It's great to be young at sixty with all the com- 
mon sense of a horse, 

So here's hopin' ye'll keep on preachin' another 
hundred years or more, 

An' reach Heaven with no dyspectic angel to 
greet you at the door. 



HARD WORK PREFERRED 

(NOTE: A darky walks with a shambling 
gait, toes pointed out the opposite from that which 
is commonly called "pigeon toes." He ducks his 
head and looks up at the person addressed, there- 
by showing the white of his eyes. Oftentime for 
emphasis, he puts the same stress on each syllable 
of the word.) 

(A traveling man, thinking to have some fun, 
with the darkey porter, offers him a job with the 
following results.) 

Yas suh, yas suh, I shuah wants to make ten 
dollars, I needs de money, the tips I ben gettin' 
lately am few and far behind. Dey haint ben 
no one in dis hostelry but married gent'men 
an' dar wives has done fleeced dem all of dar 
sparse change. - - - Oh no, sor, Fse suited 
wid de porterin' vocation, but a quarter or two 
now and den sartinly do add excitement to de 
trade. (Laughing. Ya\ Yd!) 

Oh, yas suh, I can git off all right. I thinks 
I recollict you speakin' dat de sum in totem for 
dis little task was de specific amount of ten 

silver dollars? M'huh. Fse 'mencin' to 

feel like a shuah nuf American heiress but 

I tells you right now, boss, I haint gwine to in- 

43 



44 MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 

vest my ill gotten riches in no foolish forrin 
titles, no suh. I done pick out a yaller gal, dat 
ken fry my corn cakes good enuff fo' dis chile. 
And say man! When I done shake dat particular 
ten, befor' de unaccustomed eyes, ob dat gal, 
she's gwine to roll dem dark lamps ob hern, an' 
look up into my manly countenances, an' say, 
in of voice, you'd hab no trouble in extinguish- 
in' as far as the back alley, "Mr. Nigger, I'se 
yours, hurry up an' git dat parson man ter speak 
dem peaceful words climaxin' in de good old 
words ob de sageful, barrin' affinites an' steno- 
graphers. Nothin' but death gwine to part us." 

Say boss, when does you reckon I'd better 
commence on dis aforesaid job? — To-night at 
twelve, and ef I done heard you corrictly, I 
continues in yor parsimonious employ till six 
in de mornin'; it appears I'se gwine ter be de 

night shift. Oh, no suh, I don't mind de 

time, ef I done git sleepy, I'll disremember de 
numexative ob de ten plunks an' my eyes will 
stay open wider dan alligator's mouth on a 

summer day. ( Yal Ya\ Laughing) 

(A decided transition takes place. Blink eyes 
and roll. From now on he is one scared nigger.) 

What! (Stuttering) What! What dat you 
say? You is an undertaker. Not one obe dem 
gent'men dat spends his time sociatin' wid 
dead corpses. Man! Man!! You shuah is de- 
fective. I'se ben fooled wid yor appearances. 
I, I sposes you was a shuah nuff human bein.' 

Say boss, dis business transaction you an' 

me done culminated don't hab nothin' to do 
wid yor chosen profession, do hit, boss? Case 



MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 45 

ef it do! me an' you is gwine to part right 
now. 

All you wants me to do, is to set by de side, 
ob one dem departed ones! I wants ter ax you 
right now, how many odders does you figure is 
gwine to be settin' by de side ob me? — You cal- 
culates dat hits a one man's job. Well yor 
calculator's done picked out de wrong one man, 

dats all. No suh I haint forgot about de 

ten dollars, but de discription ob der place am 
not enhancin\ You say dat hits in de country 
about five miles an dat de person in question 
done git tired livin 1 alone in his one room 
mansion an' he done murder (look behind) his- 
self on account ob de lonesomenesses! Well ef 
de remedy is left to dis nigger, I reckon dat 
lonely man's gwine to enjoy his solotude a spell 
longer, cayse I haint after acquaintin' myself 
wid no such person, Fse afeard in de process ob 
de introduction. I couldn't say, "Happy ter 
meet yor" in de off hand way I usually pre- 
sumes. - - - - 

Yas sor, I know hit's an easy job jest a 
settin', but I prefers hard labor. 

You say, deys some s'putation about der 
corpse bein' sho enuff daid. He keeps openin' 
his eyes all de time! An' all is acquired ob me, 
is ter keep his hands folded an' his eyes shut! 
Well, I wants ter state right now ef dat daid 
man wants to go down into his grave wid his 

eyes open, I'm AGREEABLE. 

You say, you'd hab a auterrnoile take me 
out an' bring me back in de mornin', — de out- 
goin' trip would be all right, but I reckon 



46 MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 

'twouldn't be necessary to come back atter me 
in de morning cayse dey wouldn't be NO 
PASSENGER!- - - - Why, Mr Undertaker, when 
dat corpses 'menced blinkin' his eyes prepara- 
tory to openin' dem, dis nigger would be in a 
place remote! --Yas suh, I needs de ten dollars, 
but I reckon I'd do dat much damage to my 

clothes a-gittin' out ob dat house. Yas suh, 

I knows I done promised, but Fse like de 
weather, Fse subject to change! 






UNCLE EPHRAIM TALKS TO A WAR HERO 

(NOTE: Walk with one hand on imaginary 
cane, other hand on back. He is bent and old, 
but with the heart of a youth. He teases the young 
soldier good-naturedly, and laughs heartily over 
his own jokes.) 

Uncle Ephraim, the old colored wit of the 
town meets a young negro soldier, just returned 
from the war, enthusiastic over his own exploits, 
and greets him as follows: 

Howdy, howdy, Sargant! So you des re- 
turned from de front? G'long boy, you knowed 
you never got no closer to de front den de back 

door, and de kitchen door, at dat. What's 

dat you say?- --You wuz a charger. Boy, 
you never had ter to jine de army to be a charger 
ef I done recollect corrictly, dat's what you wuz 
for' you went to de war. (Laughing Ya\ YaX) 
Many de time I seen you come in de store, buy 
yor sack ob terbaccer and charger. ( Ya\ Yal) 
You shuah ben trained in de chargin' all right. 

What's dat you say? When you crept up 

on dem Germans you do hit wid baited breath. 
Baited breath? Boy! What you bait yor 
breath wid, anyway? I hopes you hab sense 
enuf ter put de right kind ob bait on dat breath 
of yorn. Why, boy, you could hab cotch a 

47 



48 MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 

whole regiment ob hungry Germans ef you des 
baited yor breath wid weenies and sourer craut. 

( Yal Ya\) You say you done shelled a lot 

of dem German trenches. G'long wid you! 
You knows dat de only shellin' you done, wuz 
shellin' peanuts. ( Yal Ya\) - - - What'd dat 
you oratin' about? Dat da ricoliction ob de way 
you all go ober de top done set yor brain on fire 

right now ter think about hit? Set yor brain 

on fire! I don't see no smoke issuing from yor 
head piece. {Sniff) I "don't even smell em 
scorchin\ {Disgusted) Yor brain on fire! 
Don't make no foolisher statements like dat to 
me agin. Boy! youse got to hab material to 
burn fore you can start a fire. Ef youse under 
da aluston dat yor brains am grey matter, 
youse color blind, dats all, cayse instid ob grey 
dey's a vermillion green. ( Yal Yal) Don't 
you eber waste no money gettin' yor brains in- 
sured, for ef dey wuz ter cotch on fire, all you's 
hab ter do, is ter weep one little tear and you'd 
hab all de water necissary to put out de fire 
what your brains would make. ( Ya! Yal) 
You say dat Gen. Pushin' put ten thous- 
ands colored troops in front ob ten thousand 
white ones. Why, boy! dat's no military 
stratigin — put the niggers in front ob de 

oders!! F tell yo what happined I'll bet dey 

wuz ten thousand white soldiers tramped to 

death. 1 spose you had no difficulty in 

hearin' da command to retreat. What's 

dat? — deys no sich word in de United States 
Army! Don't dey never say retreat?- - -Dey 
do, when deys out on a skylark. An' de only 



MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 49 

thing dat an American soldier knows to do 
when dey say "Retreat" is to set 'em up again. 
( Ya\ Ya\) Goodbye, boy! I reckon I'll pre- 
amulate down to de corner and see ef I can 
git some one to retreat me. 



A LITERARY SHADOW 

Comedy negro-dialect monologue for a woman. 

CHARACTERS 

Rosindy, a cullud lady, speaker present. 
Mistress, supposed to be present. 
(NOTE: Put on all the airs that a cullud 
lady of distinction would assume.) 

Yas'm, Missy, I reckon Fse what you'd 
designate as one of dem lady authoresses. I 
knows dat I done do enuff scriblin' ter desarve 
some sort of an appellation. - - Uh Huh, Ise 
alius bin afflicted dat uh way. Why Missy! 
when I war des uh undeveloped small adult, I 
war, what you white folks calls chillen's what 
am unutterable smart — procoxious. When 
dem udder black pickcaninies would be stealin' 
de fruit ob de watermillion vine, preparatory 
to delightm' dar insides, wid de aforesaid 
mentioned, des chile, war absorbedly, in some 
quiet cornor devourin' de mentality fruit ob 
some preponderous volume. Yas'm, I war what 

dey calls a book-bug! Oh, yas'm, I means a 

book worm, I knowed dat it done b'long to 

some catagory of de animal kingdom. No'm 

I haint never had nothin' published. You see 
dees heah editor gent'men haint bedowed wid 

50 



MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 51 

de higher mentalities dat am widstowed on we 
authoresses. Now I reckon deys not ter blame 
cayse dey done be lackin' in artistical temper 
dey des bin bo'n dat uhway, dat's all! 

Ise come to de delusion, dat Ise gwine to 
keep de chilins ob my brain — home wid Mam- 
my. I done send some of dem mind rearlin's, 
dat my brain done given birth to, out to de un- 
suspectin' public, and when dey gits back to 
me, dat raised dem, Lawsy! Lawsy! Missy, 
de sardonic remarks dat dem editorial people 
done append to my lit'ary off springs, done 
make me a convert to race suicide. Why ef 
I war to hearken to de warning ob dem publish- 
in' gentlemen, dey wouldn't be no more addi- 
tions to my literacy family. An' M m m! 
Dey aint nothin' dat I prefers doin' ter author- 
in', but when I does, Ise propelled to be in de 

mood Ya-as'm, I knows dey is some, what 

can do forced writm', but Fse one dat has to be 
moody. 

Oh, yas'm, Ise done do novelous writin , , but 
Ise been tol, dat Ise much preferable in defective 
stories. But say. Missy, what I does shine 
forth in, is purblime po-et-tree! M! m! m! I 

could jes die poetasterin\ Oh yas'm, Ise 

familarized myself wid blanket verse Sho! 

I writes by de diameter, don you spose I knows 

poem writin'? You say dat Mr. an' Mrs. 

Browning am favorites of yourn? Say honey, 
dat man an' his wife didn't bof spend dah 
time at de writin' vocation? What dey do for 

a livin\ Nothin' but writin'! I bet dem 

two never suffered none wid de gout. You 



52 MGNOLOGUES AND PLAYS 

all says, I ortah study some ob de great poets! 
I tells you de reason I don't disturb dem 
poethodicals, is Ise afeared dat I might be 
declined to imitate dem, an' I prefers bein' 
wholely aboriginal. 



SAMMY SEES HIS FIRST CIRCUS 

Comedy negro-dialect monologue. 

CHARACTERS 
Sammy, litte negro boy, speaker present. 
Mammy, supposed to be present. 
(NOTE: Sammy is very much excited. 

Oh Mammy! Mammy! Ise done ben to 

Heben all dis day long. N'om I aint crazy. 

Oh Mammy please don' whip me, til I tells you 

all about hit. Yas'm, I tuk de clothes to de 

lady, jes you tols me to, an* den I starts wolkin' 
fo' home, jes as fast I could, an' all at onctet I 
hears de ban' a playin', an' I goes runnin' over 
to de front street, an' dar right fo' my eyes, wuz 
de biggest payrade dat you eber seed. It b'longed 
to de circus, an' Mammy I tells you de truf, my 
haid told me to turn uhround an' come home, 
but my feet wouldn't let me. No'm I jes could- 
n't persuade em, no way, ter bring me home, so 
I had to go erlong wid dat payrade. 

No'm, I haint had nothin' to eat all 

day, but I shuah done seed eberting. No'm 

I haint spend no money gettin' in de tent — I 
done carried wata' fo' de el'phants, an' M'm! 
M'm! how dem el'phants do like to drink, — 
dey don' say nothin', but de way dey do loop 
up dat watta\ But purty soon dey jes nattu'- 
ally got worn out drinkin'. I knowed dey didn't 
git filled up though. But dey had to stop to 
rest, an' so did I. Den de man what owns de 
circus give me and de udder boys a piece of 
paper what says we could go in de show, free. 
An' we don'ts stop fo' nothin' but goes right in. 

53 



54 MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 

An' dey had waggonloads ob all kinds of 
annimals, wid iron bars in front of dem — to 
keep de folks from stealin' em, I reckon. An' 
Oh Mammy, one annimal had a neck like a 
telegraph pole, I shuah would like to be him in 
de apple orchard, but he wouldn't count for 
nothin' in de watermillion patch, his legs is so 
long, he never could git his mouth to de groun'. 
An' dey had hip-hip-hippopottamuseses and 
rhinenoseserezes and some what I can't ricol- 
ect dar names. 

One of the boys wanted me to go see de 
el'phants eat peanuts, but I'se scaired dey 
want uhnudder drink. 

Turrectly we found a big doah to a bigger 
tent, and no buddy stops us, so we goes on in 
and sits down in one end. An' Mammy, I 
knows it wuz a mile to de udder end ob dat 
tent. An' de mostest people. Why Mammy, 
de meetin' house uh wouldn't haf hold em'. 
An' de ban' played and de el'phants come and 
danced and done de funniest tings. Lawdy! 
Mammy, dey don't look like dey knowed so 
much. 

An' an' Oh Mammy! you'd uh-died uh- 
laffin at de men ,what dey calls clowns. (Laugh- 
ing) Dey had de funniest faces, an dey done 
act so perdiculous. I lost most of the show jes 

a watchin' em. Oh I couldn't tell you 

all de funny tings dey done. Dey jes cut up 
all de time, an' dey got in de way so, Fse 
scaired de ci'cus man would put em out. — I'se 
so hungry! Aint you gwine to give me no 
supper. Oh goody! Youse got roastin' ears 



MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 65 

Oh Mammy, I forgot to tell yo', dey has 

some annimals, what dey calls monkees an' 
one of dem looked perzactly like you. 



THE SALVATION ARMY LASSIE 

CHARACTERS 

Jennie, an adorable Salvation Army lass 
from overseas, speaker present. 

Mrs. Vantrees, a lady of affluence, very cold 
and haughty, supposed to be present 

SCENE: Luxurious living room of Mrs. 
Vantrees 9 home on Fifth Avenue. 

TIME: At the close of the Great War. 

Jennie has come with news of Mrs. Vantrees' 
soldier son. 

(NOTE: Jennie speaks with just a sug- 
gestion of Irish accent, not broad, but rather a 
slight rhythmic tone. She is very sweet and 
timid, yet full of mischief. This monologue re- 
quires lots of action and pantomime. It is very 
effective in costume.) 



(Very timidly.) May I sit, please? Thank 

you so much. (Sits down gingerly on edge of 
chair.) It isn't, I'm so tired, but I — I guess I'm 

a tiny bit scared. Yes, yes I will try to be 

brief. Is it a train you have to catch? 

Oh, just a party. (Relieved.) Then it won't 
matter so awfully much, if you was — I mean, 
if you were just a wee bit late. ( Hesitatingly) 

56 



MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 57 

I can't seem to know just where to begin. — 

You see I have so much to tell you. Yes, I 

am sure it will interest you. (Suddenly) Mrs. 
Vantrees, I don't wish to seem impolite, but 
I feel so uncomfortable, when you look at me 
through that — what you call it — Lorgnette — 
it reminds me of the periscope of the enemy.- - 
Thank you, now I feel better. Though it does 
seem a little chilly in here. (Shivers) Its 
queer, I should feel the cold for I'm out in all 
kinds of weather. You see, I just came back 
from Sunny France and who ever nicknamed 
France Sunny, must have been brought up in 
a cave — for they have about as much sunshine 

over there as a profiteer has conscience 

Yes, I am a war worker, I did my bit, as the 
boys say of the cooties, they did their bite. 
But now the war is over and most of the boys 
are back. — But here I am, way off of the sub- 
ject. — I've brought you news of your son, but 
I can't seem to know how to tell you, and I 

do want to break it to you gently. Oh! 

Now I have frightened you. But you might as 
well prepare for the worst. — No! No! He 
isn't dead. — He's — he's — he's in love with me 
and says he's going to marry me! That's all! 
(Jennie runs over to Mrs. Vantrees.) Oh Mrs. 
Vantrees, please don't faint. I couldn't help 
it. honest I couldn't. You see, I didn't know 
he was rich, — in the army a soldier, is just a 
soldier and we fed them all alike. — Oh yes! 
Of course, it is quite impossible. — Yes, yes, 
I understand, such a vast difference in our 
social positions. About as much difference as 



58 MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 

this house and the trench he's been living in. 

So your son will be Earl Vantrees, the third, 

you see, I didn't know — I thought he was a be- 
ginner ancestor like me, not a second hand one. 
And this is the house of your great grand- 
father. Then you didn't have to work and 
buy it your self. — That's different, you see, 
I wasn't lucky that way. I am an orphan, — 

don't even know who my parents are. Oh, 

I know it must seem funny to you, just weighed 
down with ancestors. But I don't mind, you 
see there's an air of mystery about me — I like 
to imagine I'm a great lady. I've picked out 
King Albert of Belgium for one of my relatives; 
you see, choosing your own ancestors has its 
advantages, for you have the whole world to 
pick from. Once I did try to find out about 
myself. I'm sure my name is Genevieve in- 
stead of Jennie, but I can't prove it, so I guess 
I'll always go by the name of Jenny. (Suddenly) 
Say, you are Earl's real mother, aren't you? 

Well you see, you are not a bit like him, I 

thought you might be a step-mother or some- 
thing. You don't believe in love do you? 

No, of course not. I suppose you've heard 

the saying, Love makes the world go round. — 
I guess that's the reason it gets dizzy every so 
often. — If you will just calm down — try to 
be like me. (Poor Jennie, is anything but 
calm.) I'll tell you the reason I came to see 
you and then (Melodramatically) I will pass 
out of your life for ever — I saw that at a movie. 
I've brought you a recipe for doughnuts. You 
know, Earl was our champion doughnut eater. 



MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 59 

He used to say, he knew why Heaven was 
called the Holy City, because it was paved with 
doughnuts. — I was afraid you might not make 
your doughnuts like he was used to eating and 
I just couldn't be happy thinking about 
it. - - - 

You never made a doughnut in all your life, 
Oh goodness! goodness! Sure, but your an- 
cestors did neglect your education! Didn't 
teach you how to make doughnuts? Well 
then I don't see any other way out of it. I 
guess I'll have to marry him. — I suppose you 
are thinking that war is all Sherman said it 

was. Of course, I don't mean that, I was 

just joking. I don't want to bring unhappiness 
to you and if its best for Earl, why it won't 
matter about me, I'm used to giving up. 

Please don't pity me, and whatever you do, 
don't offer me money, I know in the movies, it 
makes an awful hit, when the girl says, 'Take 
back your gold!" but you see, I know so many 
poor people that need it, I might forget and 

take it. Why Mrs. Vantrees, you're not 

crying? — I was only trying to make you laugh. 
Oh please don't — you'll have me doing it next. 
And that's strictly against orders. You wouldn't 
do for a soldier, a soldier had to keep his smile 
in as good condition as he kept his gun, and he 
used it lots more. If you had tears to shed, 
you prepared to let them run down your throat 
and kept your smile working overtime. Those 
were our orders over there. There was no 
union hours for smiling. — Why Mrs. Vantrees, 
I didn't dare take my smile off, even at night, 



60 MONOLOGUES3AND1PLAYS 

when I went to bed. 

You begin to see things in a new light? May- 
be its my hair, I used to think it was just red, 

but Earl calls it a beautiful auburn. You 

consent? Oh Glory Hallelujah! (Clap hands 
in typical Salvation Army fashion.) Oh excuse 
me! I thought I'd got another convert. Mrs. 
Vantrees, if its not asking too much, will you 
show me my ancestors, I want to know the 
worst. 



CAMMOUFLAGE OF THE HEART 



Time, 1918. During the Great War. 

Place, New York city. 

Time of presentation, fifteen minutes. 

CAST OF CHARACTERS 

Franque Godfrey Younger sister of Anna. 

Anna Godfrey... Fiancee of Capt. John Willacy, 



SCENE: Private sitting room of the two 
sisters, Anna and Franque. Furniture, white 
wicker with blue cretone draperies. 

TIME: 2:30, on a summer afternoon. 

Discovered at rise — Franque standing at the 
window waving at the soldiers who are heard 
marching on the street below. The band is play- 
ing, "The Stars and Stripes Forever. ,f As the 
music dies away Franque returns to her chair at 
left of table and resumes her Red Cross work. 
She picks up the framed photograph of Captain 
John Willacy, which is on the table near her. 

While she very longingly gazes at his picture, 
Anna enters unnoticed by Franque. When Anna 
sees Franque with the picture, she tiptoes cautious- 
ly out of the room. She can then be heard singing. 
Franque hastily puts the picture on the table and 
starts knitting. Anna re-enters still singing, sits 
at dressing-table, removes her hat, takes big box 

61 



62 MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 

of bon bons from her beautiful shopping bag. 
Goes to chaise lounge at the right and sits down. 
She opens the box of candy and eats. 

Franque. I suppose you have been riding 
with} Mr. Van Loan. 

Anna. Can you blame me? He's such a 
dear rich old fellow. 

Franque. I will admit, he is old and rich 
but not dear. 

Anna. My dear, he is dear because he comes 
high and there is nothing cheap about him. 

Franque. How can you? 

Anna. How can I, what? 

Franque. Eat candy! 

Anna. It's quite simple — watch me — first 
you select a choice morsel from the center of the 
box, raise it to the level of your 

Franque. Anna, don't! 

Anna. Very well, I thought, since you had 
not partaken of the forbidden sweets in so long, 
you might have forgotten how. 

Franque. You know, I pledged myself not 
to eat candy, until the war is over. 

Anna. Oh! now I see the reason you are so 
anxious for the war to end. 

Franque. I, anxious for the war to end! No! 
I pray it may never end until the god of war is 
burned at the stake, though millions and 
millions will be caught in the fire and consumed 
with the monster. From the ashes of those 
brave soldiers will arise the goddesses, Dem- 
ocracy and Liberty, twin sisters who shall ever- 
more rule the world. 

Anna. Well, I am tired of these meatless, 



MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 63 

wheatless, sweetless, and goodness knows how 
many other less days. 

Franque. I suppose you prefer careless, 
senseless, heartless 

Anna. And let me add — spyless. 

Franque. Ah! yes, spyless. I agree with 
you there. America should free herself from 
the foe within. 

Anna. Hush Franque! You have heard so 
many war lectures, I believe you could give one 
yourself. But in Heaven's name! don't practice 
on me! 

Franque. Well it wouldn't hurt you to hear 
one. 

Anna (Arising and tiptoeing to the doors, and 
coming down center with fingers on lips). Sh! 
Sh! I have a secret, which, were I to unfold 
would get me interned. 

Franque (Realizing that her sister is up to 
some nonsense). What do you mean? 

Anna. I think I must be one of those dread- 
ful Huns. 

Franque. A Hun! 

Anna (Going to the candy box). Yes, for I am 
always hun-gry. 

Franque. Anna, how can you be so frivolous. 

Anna. It's easy enough. Instead of de- 
voting all your time to the Red Cross, do as I. 
Attend dances, matinees, and carabets. Oh! 
that's the life. 

Franque. Not the life for a true American 
girl. 

Anna. You don't mean to infer, I'm not. 
Why I am the first to stand, when the National 



64 MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 

air is played, and the other night at the opera, 
I ruined a perfectly good pair of gloves clapping, 
when the Flag was unfurled. 

Franque. And so you think you have done 
your bit. Maybe you have, but every true 
American should not be satisfied, just doing 
his bit. He should be like the silver dollar; 
ready to do eight bits. Then and then only 
will the Eagle spread his wings in triumph. 

Anna. Cease! Just because I say I am 
doing my bit is no reason you should compare 
me to twelve and a half cents. If you must be 
complimentary, say I look like thirty cents. 

Franque. If I could only make you serious. 

Anna. Make me serious! Almost as huge 
a task as the Allies have to whip the Germans, 
and they, like you, better give up. 

Franque. Give up! No, they will never give 
up until Prussian militarism is crushed and the 
Kaiser learns that might is right; only when it is 
the Might of Righteousness. Then he will hang 
his head in shame before the STARS AND 
STRIPES. 

Anna. His head will be hanged all right 
when the U. S. boys get over there and he will 
see stars and be wearing stripes in a place — 
well — where there is no conservation of coal. 

Franque. Bravo! That's the spirit! That 
sounds like my sister of old. (Looks at photo- 
graph of Captain Willacy.) 

Anna. Sister of old! I was afraid you said 
my old sister. 

Franque. That's the way your soldier boy, 
Captain John Willacy, would want you to talk. 



MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 65 

Anna. I meant to tell you, I just received 
a message about him. 

Franque. About him! (Rising and coming 
over toward Anna who is on the chaise — she stops 
in the center of the room much agitated) He isn't 
wounded! Oh, tell! Is he wounded? 

Anna. Well one thing he will never see 
where he was hit. 

Franque. Anna, what do you mean? (Sits 
down beside Anna.) Tell me! Don't keep me 
in suspense! Tell me! 

Anna (Rising and crossing to the right of the 
the table). There's nothing to tell. Captain 
Willacy was simply too curious. Along came 
a German shell and puff! out went his eyes. 

Franque. His eyes! Oh how terrible! — You 
don't mean he is blind! — Never see again! 
Oh how terrible! — How terrible! (Almost 
breaks down.) 

Anna. The only thing he will ever see is, 
that he was a fool to go to war. 

Franque. Where is he? Aren't you going 
to him at once? 

Anna (Crossing to left of the table and sits in the 
chair). Indeed I am not. Instead, I am going 
to send back his ring. 

Franque. Send back his ring! Anna, how 
can you be so cruel! 

Anna. You don't expect me to marry a 
blind man. 

Franque (Rising and going to the center). 
Don't you dare to speak of him, as blind man. 
He is one of God's soldiers who has laid his eyes 

the altar of his country as many another 



66 MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 

brave boy will do. I can see the long procession 
of American boys passing by their Country[s 
Shrine; some leaving their eyes, some their 
hands, their arms, their legs and if need be, 
their entire bodies in sacrifice to the Mother 
land. It is terrible, yet magnificent, losing 
some of the physical and gaining more of the 
soul. 

Anna. Well it may be all beautiful, but for 
my part I don't care to be the wife of a soul. 
I prefer a millionaire. 

Franque (Sits in a chair at the right of the table 
with her arms on the table looking across at Anna). 
Anna! You are not going to throw John over 
for that horrid old money bags, Mr. Van Loan. 

Anna. Why not? I am sure he loves me, for 
he is willing to pay the price of a million. 

Franque. A million! And you would marry 
for money instead of love. 

Anna. Oh! It will be a love match. For 
you see, I love the money. 

Franque. I would rather marry John, and 
work for him with my bare hands, the rest of 
my life, than to marry someone, whom I did 
not love. 

Anna. One might imagine you were in love 
with John yourself. 

Franque (Rising and facing Anna). I am! 
And always have been! When I thought you 
loved him my lips were sealed, but now, I will 
tell you all. 

Anna. Do, I am sure it will be interesting. 

Franaue. Oh, I am so happy and 1 know 
John will share my happiness, for when he was 



MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 67 

here last, it seemed were it not for you John 
would have returned my love. 

Anna (Rising). Ho! Ho! YOU little rascal! 
Flirting behind my back! And to think I never 
suspected. But do you love him enough to 
marry him, even though he is blind? 

Franque. Yes. I only know I love him — 
nothing else matters. 

Anna. I, too, have been harboring a secret. 
John is here in New York. 

Franque. He is here! — Have you seen him! 
— Where is he? 

Anna. At the Red Cross hospital. 

Franque. At the Red Cross hospital! 

Anna. Yes, the car is out in front now wait- 
ing to take you there. 

Franque. I will go at once. (Franque rushes 
around hunting her bag, very excited.) 

Anna (Taking the ring from her finger). Take 
this ring to Captain Willacy and tell him the 
diamond is not large enough. 

Franque (Who has thrown a light cape around 
her, which was on the clothes tree, absently takes 
the ring and hurries toward the door at the 
right. She stops suddenly and looks back at 
Anna who is standing by the window.) You 
have worn it a long time. 

Anna (Coming gaily to her). Yes, it is a relief 
to be rid of it. Goodby. (Kissing Franque) 
You may give this, to Captain Willacy for me, 
just for old time's sake. 

Franque. I will, if I don't forget. For you 
see, I intend giving him several of my own. 
Goodby. (Exit) 



68 MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 

(Anna stands watching her go down the hall as 
the front door is heard closing. She removes the 
mask of gaiety from her face and goes wearily to 
the telephone and in a changed voice calls.) 

Anna. Main 3260— Yes, please. Is this the 
Metropolitan Club? - - - Call Mr. Van Loan to 
the phone, please — (With forced gaiety). 

Anna. This is Anna So you had almost 

given me up I love to keep people in sus- 
pense. 1 must tell you the joke I played on 

Franque. Yes 1 sent her to see Captain 

Willacy and I made her believe he is blind. 

Oh! No! The specialist told me himself it is 
only a matter of time. You are not inter- 
ested in hearing about other people. — You 

may have your answer today as I promised. 

If my answer is yes you will be here with the 

car in two minutes. You don't intend giving 

me time to change my mind? You may come 
for me under one condition. The million you 
give me must be turned over to the Red Cross. 

Yes, all of it, to be used somewhere in 

France. No I don't wish it given in my 

name, just from an American Girl. Yes, 

Yes, I will be ready even to the bridal veil. 
(She hangs up the receiver and goes to her bag 
from which she takes a Red Cross head veil and 
places it upon her head. Then she crosses to the 
table and picks up the picture of Captain Willacy. 
After looking at it long and earnestly, she drops 
into the chair beside the table and sobs bitterly. 
Just then the impatient honk of the automobile 
is heard. With great effort, she stands— Then 
saluting the picture she passes out very erect while 



MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 69 

the strains of "The Stars and Stripes Forever 1 ' 
can be faintly heard.) 



DIAMOND SEVEN, HEARTS EIGHT 

Time, present. 

Place, Reception Room of Mrs. Stafford's 
home. 

Time of presentation, twenty-five minutes. 

CHARACTERS IN ORDER OF 
THEIR APPEARANCE 
Marie. — A French Maid. 
Mrs. Loretta Stafford. — Mother of Tom. 
Mrs. Ellen VanVoorees. — Mother of Grace. 
Grace VanVoorees. 

Nathalia Phillips. — Secretary of Mrs. Stafford's. 
Natilla.— Cook of Mrs. Stafford's. 



(NOTE: In this sketch, every character has 
the opportunity of looking beautiful. Mrs. 
Stafford and Mrs. VanVoorees must not be 
dressed to look old. Even Natilla, the cook, must 
look pretty and cute.) 

SCENE: Home of Mrs. Stafford. Wraps 
every place. Marie busying herself about the 
room. She goes to the inner door and cautious- 
ly opens it. A babble of women's voices is heard, 
indicating an auction party. She closes the door 
quickly and then puts on one of the beautiful 
wraps, saying: 

Marie. I look to see if no one is in sight, so 
70 



MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 71 

I can look out of sight. (Admiring herself in the 
mirror.) If Francois could only see me now; 
he would say, ma chere is ze exquisite Mad- 
emoiselle! Why was I born poor. I might have 
been ze lady, instead of ze maid. If the old 
stork wings had not grown fatigue and he had 
carried me farther up ze avenue. (She removes 
her coat and runs to the door, comes back and picks 
up a photograph of a handsome young man). 

Ven I come here first, I make ze eyes at you 
— for why — because you is ze rich Monsieur of 

ze house.. ..But ze eyes I make zhay all go 

in ze waste basket. Oh! — If you had only love 
me, zhen I would not have cared where ze old 
bird has dropped me. 

(Mrs. Stafford comes to the inner door. Marie 
dusts the picture and puts it back.) 

Marie. Ze picture of Madam's son catches 
ze dust so terrible. 

Mrs. Stafford. When Mrs. VanVoorees and 
her daughter arrive, call me. 

Marie. You mean ze grand lady who walks 
like zis, with ze daughter zat look like ze flowers 
— vat you call him — ze — wild — rose. 

Mrs. Stafford. Marie, you never miss an 
opportunity to display your English. 

Marie. Oui, Oui, Madame. But I thought 
all ze guests had come. 

Mrs. Stafford. All who are going to play 
cards have come. By the way I have invited 
Miss Phillips, but she will not be here until late. 

Marie. Not ze lady, zat writes ze letter for 
Madame. 

Mrs. Stafford. Yes, my secretary. Don't 



72 MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 

stand there and stare. (She goes to the outer 
door.) 

Marie. Well what do you know, Miss 
Phillips a guest. I think I go for ze vacation 
too and maybe Madame will invite me to her 
swell partee. 

Mrs. Stafford. Here they are now. When 
you have assisted them you may go. 

Marie. Oui, Oui, Madame. 

(Mrs. VanVoorees and Grace entering.) 

Mrs. Stafford. I could shake you for being 
late. 

Mrs. Van. My dear Loretta did you ever 
know me to be on time? 

Grace (Kissing Mrs. Stafford). I told Mother 
to hurry but she replied that fcaste was a word 
necessary to messenger boys only and not in- 
cluded in her vocabulary. 

Mrs. Stafford. If St. Peter asks me in regard 
to your future punishment, I will advise him 
to make you live an alarm clock life. 

Grace. Imagine Mother. Oh! (Laughing) 
If I can only see her, Hell will be Heaven. 

Mrs. Van. When I start my reform for the 
poor working girls, it will be to abolish that 
gruesome machine that checks their time. 
(They have removed their wraps and Marie 
places them on a chair and leaves.) 

Mrs. Stafford (To Grace.) You go in, Dearie, 
you know all the ladies. 

Grace. Yes I know them all right, that's 
the reason I hesitate. Is Mrs. Wagnalls there? 
You know when I am near that woman I have 
a feeling that I want to wind her up, she talks 



73 MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 

like a phonograph about to run down. 

Mrs. Van. She reminds me of a Nullo 
hand — Looks like nothing but counts. 

Grace. And I suppose Miss Andrews, the 
matrimonial remnant of forty bargain seasons 
is in her accustomed place. 

Mrs. Stafford. Oh! yes I invited her to 
chaperon the married girls. 

Mrs. Van. I pity the man that gets her, or 
rather that she gets, for her affections have been 
in cold storage too long. 

Grace. Oh! Mother you must keep yours in 
the same refrigerator. 

Mrs Stafford. Run along I have something 
important to tell your mother. 

Grace (Laughing). You two girls always 
have some secret that can't wait. 

(Exit) 

Mrs. Stafford (Taking a letter from her pocket). 
Here's a letter I just received from Tom. — 
Oh! I am so upset, I can't believe — 

Mrs. Van. Believe — Believe what? He 
isn't married is he? (Taking the letter and 
starting to read it.) 

Mrs. Stafford. That's just it— he- 
Mrs. Van. He thinks he is going to be. 
Really Loretta you actually frightened me for 
a moment. 

Mrs. Stafford. Oh! But you don't know 
Tom. 

Mrs. Van. Who is this girl Nathalia, some 
adventuress? 

Mrs. Stafford. Don't say that, — she's Miss 
Phillips, my secretary. 



74 MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 

Mrs. Van. Oh! so that's what the minx was 
up to. 

Mrs. Stafford. Ellen, you are too severe on 
the girl. 

Mrs. Van. I am surprised you can defend 
her. Perhaps I have been misled, and it was 
my dream alone, that our children marry. 

Mrs. Stafford. You know better than that. 
I am as disappointed as you, but there is noth- 
ing to do, but make the best of the matter. 
Tom knows my wishes and you see by his letter 
that he has tried to comply with them. 

(Reads letter.) 

"Mumsy dear, I have tried to love Grace in 
the way you wish, but I can only think of her 
as a jolly comrade. Perhaps, if Nathalia had 
not come into my life, I would have gone on 
with this marriage, but now that I know, what 
God intended love to be, in justice to Grace I 
could not. Don't think, that I have not tried 
to conquer this love, for I know it will be a blow 
to your pride, but Mumsy dear, she's so wonder- 
ful and I love her beyond 

Mrs. Van. Spare me from the raving of a 
mad man. 

Mrs. Stafford. But Ellen you must listen 
to this. "Now I suppose you will think Na- 
thalia has encouraged me, but she has not. 
Mumsy, she loves you very much and knowing 
your heart is set upon my marriage with Grace 
will not accept me. She sent me away for a 
month and made me promise not to see her or 
write, and then at the end of that time, if I still 
love her, she might reconsider ." 



MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 75 

Mrs. Van. Urn, she's a sly designing 
creature. Why didn't you tell me of this before. 

Mrs. Stafford. This is the first I've known 
of it. Of course I could see that Tom was fond 
of her, but I thought nothing of that, for she 
is a very lovable girl and I have become very 
much attached to her myself. 

Mrs. Van. She has you all hypnotised. 
You surely will not consent to your son marry- 
ing a girl so far beneath him. 

Mrs. Stafford. Ellen, you forget that you 
are speaking of my future daughter-in-law. 
Nathalia is my son's choice and I shall not 
object. Call it foolishness or sentiment, I care 
not. I gave up my lover and married the man 
whom my parents chose, and you know what a 
failure my life has been. 

Mrs. Van. Well I married for love and my 
life is no different from yours. Men are all 
alike, none of them are true, only some of them 
have been found out, that's all. 

Mrs. Stafford. I wonder why it is, that 
wives who have been deceived console them- 
selves with the thought that all men are faith- 
less. 

Mrs. Van. I suppose because it is true. 

Mrs. Stafford. No I do not believe that; 
because your husband and mine are false, is no 
reason we should include the husband of our 
friend. If we do, we stoop to use a coward's 
weapon to protect ourselves. 

(Enter Nathalia.) 

Nathalia (Laughing). I thought this was to 
an auction party, not a suffragette meeting. 



76 MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 

Mrs. Stafford (Kissing her). Oh! I am so 
glad you came. Ellen, you remember Nathalia. 
(Nathalia goes lo Mrs. Van and offers her hand, 
but she puts up her lorgnette and gives a stony 
stare.) 

Mrs. Van. Oh, yes, — the girl who has been 
in your employ the last year. You have been 
away for a month, I had almost forgotten you. 
Lorretta, I am going in and see who is likely to 
get high score. {Exit.) 

Mrs. Stafford. Don't mind her dear, she's 
evidently eaten an indigestible lunch. 

Nathalia. I am sorry your best friend 
doesn't like me. 

Mrs. Stafford. It's not your fault so don't 
worry about it. Its good to see you again, I 
didn't realize how much I depended upon you. 
Tom will return tonight, and with you both 
here, the house will again seem like home. 
Come in, as soon as you can. I want you to 
meet the ladies. (Exit.) 

Nathalia (Picks up Tom's picture). I wonder 
if you too have forgotten. I will soon know. 
What were your parting words? "I shall come 
to claim you at the end of the month, at the end 
of the thirty days that will seem like thirty 
years. And that you may know that my heart 
is still yours, I will send the flowers you love 
best." Ah! — Tom, dear if you only knew how 
great is my love for you. You said, "that I 
was cold and did not care for you and though 
it would take years you would make me love 
you." Dear silly boy, you little knew the 
struggle I had to send you away. But the 



MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 77 

thought that you might some day regret, kept 
me brave. Now if the violets are in my room, 
I shall know he is coming for me, and if not, then, 
then — well then nothing matters. I shall be 
like a miner who toils patiently, endlessly on, 
by the tiny light of his candle, knowing that 
the sun does shine but never feeling its warmth. 
(Laughing) How sentimental I am growing, I 
dare say that little God Cupid is laughing up 
his sleeve. Oh! I forgot he doesn't wear 
sleeves. 

(Enter Grace imitating a Shakespearean trage- 
dian.) 

Grace. To flirt or not to flirt, that is the 
question, whether tis wiser in the heart to en- 
joy the side long glances of some courageous 
youth, and be taken in his arms, and hear fairy 
tales bubble. To raise the eyes — to smile — 
and with a smile begin the heart throb and the 
thousand electrical shocks that flesh is heir to. 
Tis a flirtation devoutly to be wished. 

To smile — to embrace — to embrace perchance 
to kiss. Aye that's the stuff: For in that kiss 
what germs may come, will give us — The Flu. 
(Laughing) You look serious enough to be 
giving it in the original form. 

Nathalia. I think I feel more like playing 
Juliet. 

Grace. Then behold Cousin Spirits, for I 
am in love too. 

Nathalia. Grace dear, do you love Tom — 
so — so — so that your heart will be broken if — 
if 

Grace. Stop right there! Mother has de- 



78 MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 

cided that I marry Tom, and take my word she 
will see that there are no if s. 

Nathalia. But are you quite sure? 

Grace. Here's my engagement ring. You 
know Tom's coming back to-night and we have 
planned to be married at once. (Hugging 
Nathalia) I am so happy I love every one. 
Why! you don't seem glad. 

Nathalia. Why, yes, of course I am sur- 
prised^ that's all. Grace dear, you will excuse 
me while I go to my room. I have a headache. 
(Exit.) 

Grace. I ought to be ashamed of myself to 
tease her so. Its true, that Tom and I have 
planned to be married, but not to each other. 
Wouldn't Mother be furious if she knew. I 
wish Tom would consent to a double elopement. 
Wouldn't it be exciting? I can imagine Mother 
reading the message. Tom and Nathalia 
married. P. S. Also Grace and Jim. Anyway 
she will receive the Post Script. (Exit)^ 

(Enters Natilla carrying a bunch of violets 
and a note.) 

Natilla. To tank dat Tom he luves me all 
dere time, and ay never knows it vunces. 
Mine brudder vich bane dere messenger boy, 
just came wid dis and says dot a jentlemen tolt 
him to pling deem to me. Mine brudder he 
sayd he didn't spells Natilla like ve did, but dat 
bane all right — Yah! 

Vot does hees letter reads? 

Dear Heart — Ah, he tanks ay bane dere 
hearts of deredeer — veil ay alveys knew he likes 
dene venisons, but I didn't hope he likes me 



MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 79 

dat much, aint it yet. 

(Reads Sweedish accent.) 

"Ay have been avay trying to forget you but 
its no use. Dear love it were easier to try to 
live without breathing than to live without 
you, for to me you are the breath of life." Vot 
does he means by dot? First ay bane somding 
vot he eats an now ay bane dere air he breathes, 
aint ay. Veil ay yust teels him vot he vouls 
shoke if he trys to swallor me. "Here are the 
flowers I know you love best." (She looks at 
the flowers.) Oh! budt ay didn't ay likes the 
carrynation pest, but dot bane all right for him 
to make dere guess, anyvey aint it. An he 
says he bane going to be here soon to claim me. 
Py gracious, ay must go tell Ollie dat ay busts 
dere begagement wid him. Ay loove Ollie budt 
he bane only dere bolicemans. Ay bane tanking 
ay bane lucky to get him ven all dere mens 
gettin" dead in dere vars. An now ay bane 
goint to marry a pillionaire mans, aint ay? 
(She looks at the wraps.) Ay be wearing somtan 
sweller dan dees pretty quick, Oh, some vun 
bane coming. Ay vill hide my selves already 
yet. (She hides.) 

(Enters Mrs. Van — and looks around.) 

Mrs. Van. I wont allow this marriage to go 
on. Tom must marry Grace, everyone expects 
it and I wont have my daughter humiliated by 
this common working girl. (She puts her rings 
in Nathalies wrap.) 

Mrs. Van. This is a terrible thing to do, but 
something has to be done, before Tom returns 
tonight. Oh! I'll see that the girl is well taken 



80 MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 

care of. I know they would never arrest her. 
(She exits.) 

(Nalilla comes out.) 

Natilla. Vot does she means. Ay don't 
understood. Maype ay guess ay bane cutting 
out her Grace — aint ay. (Natilla goes to wrap 
and takes out the rings saying) Dimuts! Pretty 
soon Tom bane goin' to buy me a soltude. 
(She puts rings into the wrap.) (Enters Marie.) 

Marie. How dare you ze cook come up here? 

Natilla. Maype ay don't alveys bane der 
cooks. 

Marie. No! maype you be ze g.iand scrub 
lady. 

Natilla. No, ay don't tank ay bane. 

Marie. Why are you not in the kitchen. 

Natilla. Dere is nuttins to do. — Dere lunches 
es being served by dere cateress. (Music is 
heard from the other room). Oh, that bane the 
music! Marie ay tanks you bane pretty and 
you skipps er bout an you never vunce stum- 
bles already. Now if you vill teach me yust 
vun liddle dances, ay vill sneak you oudt 
vun pottle of vine. 

Marie. Oh vill you? 

Natilla. Yah, an yust you wait, you bane 
tickled dot you bane friendly wid me. 

Marie. I will show you not for ze friend- 
ship, but for ze vine. (Marie hums and dances 
very prettily. Natilla awkwardly tries to im- 
itate her.) 

Marie. It is so easy. 

Natilla. Yah, aint it? 

(Marie ends the dance with a low courtesy. 



MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 81 

Natilla, in trying to imitate her, sits flat on 
floor.) 

Natilla. Py gracious, ay most forgot, ay 
must go an tell Ollie. 

Marie. Oh, is he your beau? 

Natilla. He bane vunce and now ay go to 
phreak hees heart. 

Marie* Perhaps Ollie he vill be glad. (Laughs) 

Natilla. Ay tanks you bane a silly fool. 

Marie (Shrugs her shoulders). And I tink 
you vas a polite lady, but possible is it we both 
mistaken. 

Natilla. Ay accepts dere apologies, come on 
get dere vine. 

(They exit.) 

(Nathalia enters looking very sad.) 

Nathalia. The violets were not there — 
Grace was right — Oh! I must get away before 
Tom returns. (She hurriedly puts on her wraps.) 
I must leave some word for Mrs. Stafford. (She 
takes card from her bag.) What shall I say? 
(Writes) "Dear Mrs. Stafford: Please forgive 
me for leaving you in this strange way but I 
can not explain. Don't try to find me for I 
never expect to see you again — Nathalia/' 
(She places the card on the dresser, seeing Tom's 
picture, she picks it up.) Oh, Tom — Tom! 
(She almost breaks down, then recovers herself 
and clasping the picture under her coat she starts 
to leave. Mrs. Van and Mrs. Stafford and 
Grace enter. Mrs. Van runs to the dresser 
saying:) 

Mrs. Van. I left them right here. 

Grace. Mother don't get so excited. 



82 MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 

(Mrs. Van sees Nathalia and rushes to the 
door saying.—) 

Mrs. Van. No one leaves this house until 
my diamonds are found. 

Mrs. Stafford (Finding Nathalia 's card). 
Nathalia, what is the meaning of this. 

Nathalia. Do forgive me, but I must leave, 
I am sorry that I can not explain. 

Mrs. Van. Young woman, do you realize 
that my rings have been stolen! 

Grace. Mother, don't say that. 

Mrs. Van. Your actions are very suspicious. 
I hope you will not object to being searched. 

Nathalia (Keeping the picture close to her). 

Oh! No — No — No — do believe me Mrs. 
VanVoorees,-I know nothing about your jewels. 

Mrs. Van. Unless you consent I shall call 
a detective. 

Mrs. Stafford. Nathalia dear, I know you 
are innocent, but for my sake allow Mrs. 
VanVoorees that satisfaction. 

(Nathalia allows Mrs. Van to examine her 
coat, the picture slips to the floor. Grace picks it 
up unnoticed by the others. Mrs. Van holds up 
her rings triumphantly. Nathalia is dazed. 
Mrs. Stafford drops into a chair.) 

Mrs. Stafford. Nathalia, why did you do it? 
Oh, my poor boy! my poor boy! (Nathalia 
runs to Mrs. Stafford and drops on her knees.) 

Nathalia. Oh, Mrs. Stafford don't think me 
guilty, as God is my witness I am innocent. 

Mrs. Van. Really your bravado is amusing. 
No doubt, you will tell me my rings have 
developed a motor power, by which they walked 



MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 83 

into your pockets. 

Nathalia (Rising). Mrs. VanVoorees for 
some reason unknown to me, you do not like 
me. 

Mrs. Van. You over estimate yourself. I 
neither like or dislike you, for I have never 
even noticed you. But to prove that I bear 
you no malice, I will let you go without punish- 
ment. Although stealing has become so com- 
mon among servants that I ought to make an 
example of you. Go now and never return, 
for as surely as you do I will prosecute you. 

Nathalia. Go! You tell me to go, with this 
awful accusation against me. No! I shall 
never leave until my good name is cleared. 

(Enter Natilla with a black eye, singing 
"Ollie Oh Ollie, I love but you.") 

Mrs. Stafford (Sharply). Natilla. 

Natilla. Ox-cuse me. 

Nathalia (Seeing the violets). Oh, these are 
mine, mine — where did you get them? 

Natilla. Ay, vy, Tom, he sends dem to me. 

Nathalia (Reading). To Miss Nathalia. 

Natilla. Veil my name bane Natilla, he 
yust spells it a liddle different dat bane all. 
You see! ay ven to tell Ollie, he bane mine 
feller, dat ay couldn't marry wid him, an Ollie 
he looves me so, he yust knocks me down wid 
his fist, and makes me go right away to dere 
justice of dere pieces an ve bane murdered. 

Grace. You mean married. 

Natilla. Veil vat bane dere difference. 
(Takes handkerchief with money tied in it and 
gives it to Mrs. Stafford.) 



84 MONOLOGUES AND PLAYS 

Mrs. Stafford. What is this? 

Natilla. It bane all mine moneys. Yust 
keep it until ay come back. Ve bane goin' to 
take a liddle honeymoons trip an ay didn't vants 
to go wid a strange man wid all dat money on 
me. Ay vill bane back outside a veek. (To 
Mrs. Van.) And now Tom can marry your 
Gracie. Ay heard you say so. 

Mrs. Van. You heard me — 

Natilla. Yah! Ay bane hiding behind dere 
scream and you bane er talking and putting 
dere rings inside your coats. (Exits.) 

Grace. Mother what does she mean about 
your rings? 

Mrs. Van (Breaking down). Oh, my God! I 
might have known I would be found out. Oh, 
my child don't look at me like that. What I 
did was for your sake. 

Grace. Oh, Mother how could you? I can 
never — never forgive you. 

Nathalia. Surely Grace if I can forgive her, 
you must. What your mother did was through 
her great love for you. Neither you, nor I, nor 
does the world understand the boundlessness 
of a mother's love. (Nathalia leads Grace to 
her mother, who is standing with bowed head at 
the back of the room. Mrs. Van opens her arms 
and Grace rushes into them.) 

(Enters Marie.) 

Marie. I beg ze pardon, Madame. Mon- 
sieur Tom is in ze library and wishes to speak 
with Madamselle Nathalia. 

(Mrs. Stafford puts her arm around Nathalia 
and starts to lead her from the room.) 



. ^ 












^ 






\V </> 



:^%" V^pK* #%v,.cy/\/%. 15 fpy ^ 




























\t5 ^ 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Nov. 2007 

PreservationTechnologies 

A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 



111 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 1 6066 
(724)779-2111 



J 



' 




































. 













LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



021 158 283 2J 



ii5lllllilUlBBiiS 

ra&Mff MM 






IffiffiflBBl 



I J n Ulimf 
ror fi ff ■ ■ wBHj heu? 



